


New Americanah

by babydollcandy



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Revenge, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-24 14:28:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20360047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babydollcandy/pseuds/babydollcandy
Summary: "Don't underestimate the allure of darkness. Even the purest hearts are drawn to it."Lady Liberty abandoned the Campbell name the moment her mother had settled the divorce and thought Bridgeport, Connecticut was a far better place to raise a Supe. Twenty-four years later as Defender of Bridgeport, Liberty is what you'd call a C-level squader. The pay is shit, but that's not why she does it. Saving people is just about the coolest thing someone can do — and Homelander is her hero.Well... you know how that old saying goes.Never meet your heroes.





	New Americanah

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own "The Boys." All rights go to their respective owners. Entertainment purposes only.  
  
**WARNINGS**: Must I really mention them? If you've seen the show then you should know what to expect. I'll try to hold nothing back.

**cast; **A very young _Betty Gilpin_ as _Lady Liberty_

* * *

_"Don't underestimate the allure of darkness. Even the purest hearts are drawn to it."_

* * *

**H E R O F O R H I R E**

( _ no joke _ )

Wrongs Righted. Bad Guys Beaten.

No Crime Too Small to Crack, No Villain Too Villainous to Vilify.  
**  
LET ME SOLVE YOUR PROBLEMS FOR YOU**

Half superhero / Half private eye

**TERMINAL DO-GOODER  
** **WANTS TO DO GOOD FOR YOU**

  
Cheap Rates - Great Results - Light Housekeeping  
  
**CALL** 203 - 688 - 8628

Lady Liberty made her rounds on Kossuth Street, stapling flyers to trees. Someone had to be taking them down— damn environmentalists. That was the only "plausible" reason why work hadn't been good this month. Or really, any other month this year. Now, she knows how that might sound, but don't get the wrong idea. Liberty was all about a green, healthy Earth, and... stuff... but _come on_, it was getting a bit ridiculous and wasn't doing well for business.

The passion to inspire innovative, criminal masterminds had grown absent from the city of Bridgeport. Yeah, there were still local robberies, house fires, '_who's my husband cheating on me_ _with'_ investigations and 'cat in the tree' crimes, but... Liberty felt, in her soul, she could be doing so much more. And although the feeling ignited an inferno within, she still believed hard work payed off.

After all, the price of success was hard work, dedication to the job at hand, and the determination that whether we won or loss, we had applied the best of ourselves to the task at hand. That was the American dream. It was what The Homelander stood for; it was what each red and blue star stitched on her leotard meant and the reason her skirt was of the American flag. 

Even for an all American girl like Lady Liberty, that dream still had to mean something.

.

.

.

Souring down Bishop Avenue, Lady Liberty chased a school bus of children hijacked by a suicide bomber.

This— _this_ was what she had been talking about! _This_ was the type of work she wanted— and for a Tuesday she couldn't ask for anything less than spectacular.

Three police vehicles were hot and heavy on the criminal's tail, however, the moment Liberty realized this was much more than just some last ditch effort to evade the cops and gain leverage with a group of children, she had to wave off civilian emergency services. Getting blown to pieces wasn't something she had to worry about.

The school bus careened around the corner, scraping against the hood of an incoming pedestrian car and slamming into the taillight of another.

"Get out of the way!" she shouted. "Stay out of the way!" Pedestrians crossing the street suddenly jumped back and scattered. Others that were too caught up in their phones nearly turned into roadkill had it not been for Liberty, who swooped through and dropped them off onto the sidewalk.

Liberty veered back on course and a voice faded into her mind: _a lady shouldn't play with their food, get him. _She kept the gleeful noise in the back of her throat to herself. She sped up alongside the school bus, waving to the crying children that looked expectantly out the window. Once at the doors, she waited till the rabid man in the driver's seat caught sight of her massive blond curls, then saluted him. Eyes widening like the size of the Grand Canyon, he brought his thumb over the white trigger—

She burst through the doors, glass and plastic exploding into the vicinity, and grabbed the man. A second later, he was seen flying through the doors of the bus, colliding into the brick wall of a coffee shop. Only shortly after did it register that she should have been a bit more... _gentler_. Amateur moves, but hey, she was paving her way with time. 

Liberty put the school bus into park and made sure all the children were healthy enough to stand and walk, double checking before leaving them with the local authorities in order to detain the bomber— except he wasn't where she had thrown him. She looked behind her. Nothing. To her left. Nothing. A crowd of pedestrians gathered around her and clapped a resounding applause. Liberty managed a smile on her face, waving, but her slitted gaze remained on guard for the profile of her guy. 

"You're a hero!" a women yelled.

_How hard was it spot a dude with a bomb _literally_ wrapped around his person?_

"Hey, I know you! I've seen you catch a mugger before!" Another whooped. 

_Come on, come on. _She scanned the crowd, one row at a time. _Where are you?_

"Woo!"

"Can I get a picture! Please, just one!"

Liberty saw him. Ten o'clock. Third row deep into the crowd. A solid-looking African American man in jeans and a sweaty t-shirt, _obvious_ C-4 wrapped underneath his shirt. A moment of suspended time brought their eyes to meet, a moment too long.

Rushing forward, Liberty pushed people out of her way. Turned her shoulders to fit through the crowd. Screamed until her voice cracked. Watched as his hand moved into the sea of civilians— and he grabbed the arm of a woman, (_kill him_) the shoulder of a little boy, (_kill him_) and pulled them close. 

Her flesh started to glow with the luster of molten gold and simmered with a grossing temperature capable of incinerating those near her. All it would take was just one breath, one raising of her finger—

_KILL HIM. _

His finger hooked into a white ring that happened to be attached to a short string— and pulled. 

.

.

.

"_No man achieves great success who is unwilling to make personal sacrifices._"

.

.

.

Susan held her daughter close in her arms, the pad of her thumb wiping at the blue and red eyeshadow smudged from tears. The nail of Liberty's index finger sat along her bottom lip as she chewed thickly at its edge. Realistically, it was the last part of her body she could tear at without drawing blood. 

"All I wanted was to... just... do the _right_ thing. I wanted to... turn him in. I _wanted_ the "law" to handle it." She moved her hand from her mouth and cinched her fingers into her pajama pants, digging into her legs. "Gosh... I sound so..." _Stupid_.

"Righteous," Susan interjected quietly. "Like someone who wanted to do good—"

"_And_ thirteen people died for it." For a moment, Liberty's own breathing stilled. She swallowed slowly, tasting the words _thirteen_ and _died_ in one go, like trying to swallow rocks. The Seven would have never made such an amateur and reckless mistake. "My own self-righteousness has killed more people today than in vehicular homicides here _this month_." A difficult, painful pause. "Nobody's gonna want me out there now. Lady Liberty, my ass..."

"You kiddin' me? You're Defender of Bridgeport—"

"_Mom_— I almost swallowed somebody's fucking _pinkie_."

.

.

.

_Forever I will be in that moment, from head to toe, my entire being scarlet and sticky with lumps of organs belonging to strangers._

_._

_._

_._

**Emms Mareek** @EMareek_1**·** 5h

13 beautiful souls lost today. R.I.P shit like this shouldn't be happening in 2019. [#BridgeportBomber](.)

**LiZZard KiNGG** @LiZArdkinGG4 **·** 3h

Heard there was a Supe there and dis still happened. WHAT. THE. FuCKk do they get paid for. RIP.

**Redzero** @IRedZero **·** 5h

The Seven wouldn't have let this happen, just saying... [#BridgeportBomber](.)

**John Strika** @JLStrika122 **·** 4h  
replying to [@IRedZero](.)

Exactly. wonder what Vought thought about this.

.

.

.

Liberty closed Twitter on her phone and with a cry, chucked the lump of stupid plastic across her bedroom. The back piece broke apart the second it smacked into her limited edition framed poster of the Homelander.

She swore if she looked hard enough, the relentless, minute, heart-beat of red lasers seeped from the cordial eyes of her hero.

_I failed you._

.

.

.

When Liberty was told that her father—_of all people_—had contacted them, she couldn't help the force of a screwdriver driving through her eardrum into her brain. She didn't believe that after twenty-four years a lowlife like Hugh Campbell— because she refused to call him that man her father— had _suddenly_ decided to reach out. Yes, he was the man her mother had fallen in love with. Liberty understood that one-hundred percent, but nothing excused throwing your wife out onto the streets along with her two-year-old daughter— _your_ daughter.

"Say something," Susan quietly pleaded, gaze unwilling to leave Liberty's until something was said or done. Even a nod would suffice at this point.

Tendrils of silver smoke curled above the pot on the stove, the charring of Wednesday morning's eggs.

_I want to throw up_, she thought. Attempting to fight the urge didn't even feel worth it.

"I don't... I don't understand. What did he say? What did _you_ say? Did you talk to him?"

Susan grappled with the spoon in her hand. "Um, yeah, I did. We talked for a while. Fifteen minutes max." She watched as Liberty shook her head, blonde curls flaring. A sensation of illness came with the abrupt rising of heat in the kitchen, and her forehead glistened. Susan wasn't sure whether it was the burning of the food or simply the powers of her daughter reflecting discomfort. "He," she continued, "actually asked about you."

Liberty's eyebrows shot so high into her hairline it might as well be a fuckin' cartoon parody. "Me? You mean _me_? I— I— wha..."

"He wanted to know how you were, said he's seen you on the news a couple of times and how he's proud. Real proud."

_Gee, thanks?_

"But his son, Hughie— his girlfriend died."

All defensiveness in Liberty's expression dropped effortlessly, forcing herself to let go of the bitterness. "What...?"

"Recently, too. She was standing in the middle of the street and like— burst into pieces. Some freak accident, I think."

She clapped both hands over her mouth, taking a pace along the kitchen island. _What. the. fuck?_

"Hugh wants to know—" she stopped, corrected herself. "He'd _like_ if we came to show support. I told him I... couldn't. Just too much. But I want you to go. I know life didn't have it the way you may've wanted but that bad blood is between me and your father. Hughie's got nothing to do with it. He's still your brother."

Liberty moved her hands out of her face and through her hair. She felt like her face was burning hot, looked down at her hands for reassurance and breathed out calmly when her complexion didn't resemble the surface of a star. "Half brother, mom," she said. "_Half_. I don't know that boy from a hole in the wall. You want me to show up and say what? 'Oh, hi, my name is Liberty and I'm your sister. Also, I'm so sorry about your girlfriend, stick to the sidewalk next time—'"

Her head snapped back, the force of a backhand cracking across her mouth. It stung and she clutched her lips, but didn't cry.

"_Watch your mouth_," Susan damn-near yelled. "What— what is wrong with you? That is your brother's girlfriend and now, after being so disrespectful? You will be going to that girl's funeral, where you will show _respect _and_ support_."

Liberty's stare pinned her to the back wall.

At this, her mother narrowed her eyes. "Do we have an understanding?"

Very simply said. "Yes, mom."

"Good." A breath. "That's good." Susan turned back around to the stove and shut it off, throwing the spoon in her hand somewhere into the sink. "Now, sit down. We're still having this breakfast."

* * *

**THE END OF CHAPTER 1**

** **

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to hear your thoughts on this introduction! In the next chapter, Liberty finally enters the world of Hughie Campbell and might cause her own chaos! ;) Can't wait.


End file.
